


Atmosphere One-shots

by anyastasia



Category: Atmosphere - Fandom, Minecraft Roleplay
Genre: Division MCRP, MCRP, Minecraft Roleplay - Freeform, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-10-28 12:10:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20778350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anyastasia/pseuds/anyastasia
Summary: oneshots of some clowns 🤡





	1. The Last Sunset of Gray and Flame

“Gray!” Flame shouted into the trees. “Where are you, man?”

He heard Dex sigh behind him. “Forget him,” the white-haired boy snarled. Flame looked over his shoulder at him. Dex pushed his hair out of his eyes with his gloved hand and continued to scowl in Flame’s direction. “Gray probably tripped over a rock, hit his head, and died.”

Flame rolled his eyes in anger and kept looking. Gray had been missing for two days now; Flame and Dex had assumed he had been taken captive by another division. Flame had insisted they search the whole arena for him. He understood why Dex wanted to carry on without Gray — the other boy was considerably weaker than Flame and Dex, and lagged behind most of the time. Dex kept talking about how he wanted to just kill Gray and make it seem like the Honorables killed him instead. Flame dismissed the idea each time he brought it up. He liked Gray. Maybe a little bit more than liked. Every time he helped Gray in training or patched him up in the arena, he felt his stomach twist into knots. He couldn’t help but smile sheepishly whenever Gray did a stupid impression of Dex or his dad. 

Now Gray was missing, and Flame wasn’t going to stop looking until he had torn the whole arena apart. 

Dex sensed Flame’s sympathy and scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You can keep looking,” he said. “I’m going back to the camp. If you find him, bring him back if you want to. And if he’s dead, you can mope over his bones for a while.” Dex stormed off into the trees, leaving Flame alone. 

Flame continued to walk, calling Gray’s name. It was dangerous to be so loud; the Honorables could find him at any moment. Chances were they were all the way across the arena and couldn’t hear him. Flame was willing to take the chance of getting captured for Gray. 

He noticed something on the ground. A smear. Maybe some mud from a passing animal? Flame crouched down and wiped some of the stuff onto his hand. It came away coppery red. He felt a chill pass through him. Blood. And recent. 

“Gray!” He shouted louder, standing up. “You gotta give me something, man!” He knew Gray was close. He could feel it somehow. Cold trails of ice slid down his spine. 

A faint wail became his answer. It was weak, and throaty sounding. Almost more of a gurgle. But Flame was up and running towards it in a matter of seconds. Thorns and branches whipped at his face, but he ignored the sharp stings and kept running. He stopped after a few moments, nearly tripping over a root. 

He spun around in a few frantic circles, before a little weak voice moaned, “Flame.”

Flame turned. Gray was sprawled our under a fern, pale and small. His auburn eyes were half-closed and his face was covered in blood, saliva and tears. He was shaking like a leaf in autumn and there was blood all over his clothes. 

“Holy shit, Gray,” Flame stammered, rushing over and baseball-sliding under the fern with the smaller boy. Hauling him into his lap, Gray have a faint cry of pain, and Flame saw the injury. A gash across his throat. Shallow, but on a major artery that guaranteed a slow, painful death. Only the lowest of the low would choose such a death for Gray, one of the sweetest people Flame knew. 

“Hey, hey, I’m here,” Flame murmured, lightly brushing Gray’s red hair out of his eyes. Gray’s bottom lip was trembling and he was making pitiful little whimpers. Gray knew he was dying. 

“Flame,” Gray said weakly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared.”

“Don’t be scared, Gray.” Flame said. He felt his eyes fill but refused to cry. He had to be strong for Gray. 

The redhead continued to whimper and shake. “I don’t want to die, Flame,” He bawled. “My dad will be s..so disappointed.”

Flame’s heart twisted when Gray mentioned his father. The man in charge to the recruitments, he had full confidence that his son would make it out alive and being the division to victory. Now look where he had got his son. Flame was angry. Gray’s father expected so much of him, even though Gray never asked for anything. It was his fault his son was dying, miles away from his home and family. 

Flame licked his thumb and began cleaning off Gray’s face. It was so dirty. He must have been wandering for the two days he had been missing, trying to find Dex and Flame with a ticking time bomb on his throat. It was only a matter of time before he collapsed from exhaustion, and after that, only a matter of time until death. 

Gray relaxed the tiniest bit at Flame’s touch. “Please don’t leave,” he whispered. Each time Gray’s eyes closed, Flame panicked, thinking it would be the last time he ever saw those beautiful brown eyes. But then they would open, slower each time. 

“I’ll never leave,” Flame promised fiercely. “I’ll win this for you, Gray.”

Gray nodded weakly, his sticky, bloody fingers finding Flame’s. Their hands interlocked and they clung to each other for a long time, the only sound being Gray’s weak sobs. 

Finally Flame pulled Gray back into his lap when the other bit murmured his name. The light had gone out of Gray’s eyes. Flame’s pulse sped up. He had minutes at most. 

“Gray,” He stammered. He still refused to cry, but a few overflow tears slipped out. Gray saw them, and he seemed to cry harder. 

“Don’t cry, don’t cry,” Flame said, brushing them away. “What...what do you want, Gray?”

Gray was still for so long that Flame thought he had already died. But with a last heave of strength, Gray reached into his jacket and pulled out a blood-stained and crinkled paper. 

“Give that...to my father,” he said, barely able to form words. The more he spoke, the more blood bubbled from his throat and mouth. “I..I want him to see what I c..could’ve been. If. If he hadn’t sent me here.”

Flame took the paper and neatly folded it away. He didn’t want to look at it. 

Flame and Gray sat together for the last two minutes of Gray’s short life. Each second passed in agony. Flame so desperately wanted to tell Gray how he felt. How he made Flame feel happier than he had ever been, about the butterflies that made cocoons in his stomach whenever Gray spoke. But saying it now would give Flame hope that would die with Gray. At this point, he was in love with a corpse. 

But then Gray weakly raised his shaking hand and placed it against his chest. “I...” He said, forcing the word out like it was lined with thorns. 

He lifted his hand again and set it on Flame’s chest. Right over his heart. 

“Love.” Gray gurgled. The blood became a waterfall out of his mouth. The tears came to Flame’s eyes. 

The last of the life flooded from Gray’s face and body before he could finish his sentence. He slowly sank back onto Flame’s legs, and his bloody hand slid down Flame’s front, leaving a bloody handprint on his chest. 

Flame sat, staring at Gray’s corpse for a long time. He still clutched Gray’s other hand. Lifting it to his cheek, he pressed Gray’s bloody handprint into his skin. 

He lifted Gray into his arms, bridal-style. Gray’s last words kept replaying in his head. _I love. I love. I love. _

Gray had loved him, and Flame never knew it. 

He staggered onto the beach and dropped to his knees. The sun was setting. Gray hadn’t been able to see it. It was magnificent — reds and oranges and yellows and pinks, Gray’s favorite color. Flame propped Gray up against his chest in a sitting position. 

They watched the sunset together. 


	2. skin and ink

“Stop moving, for goodness sake.”

Gray bent over Flame’s arm, lightly tracing the needle across his dark skin. He was nearly done. Weeks of sessions had finally led him to wrap up this one tattoo. a collection of stars, the moon, and the sun — all around the calligraphy of Gray’s own name. 

Gray’s tanned face heated up just looking at his own work. Flame had dozens of other tattoos that he had done, but this was the first one that really had meaning. The sparrow behind his ear, the lightning bolt beside his eye, the Chinese dragon snaking along his spine — Gray had barely known him when he had done those. But over the years, Flame kept coming back, and Gray would look forward to Flame’s sessions. He put extra care into his tattoos — to Gray, he was leaving a permanent mark on him, and he wanted it to be perfect. 

“Gray, it looks fine,” Flame said. “And I’m not moving. You can stop going over it.”

“Flame, who’s the tattoo artist here?” Gray pointed out gently. He never raised his voice at Flame. 

“You.” Flame replied grumpily. “It looks fine to me”.

“I still need to go over it.” Gray insisted, even though he really was done. He just didn’t want to let go of Flame, ever. 

He traced his work a few times over, darkening the lines, making sure it never faded. If Flame ever wanted this one removed, he’d have to work for it. 

The minutes ticked by. Flame caught on. “Gray,” he said softly. 

“Flame,” Gray countered in the same tone. He lifted his eyes to meet Flame’s dark ones. He was smiling in a knowing way. 

Gray rolled his eyes. “I swear I’m almost done, Flame.”

Flame laughed. He has such an addicting laugh — it was high and low at the same time, and harmonized with itself. Gray could listen to him laugh and laugh for hours. 

Flame stuck out his bottom lip. “It’s no fair. You get to touch me all over and I just have to sit here.”

Gray laughed, careful to move the needle away from Flame’s skin. “That’s fair, that’s fair,” he mused. “Okay. Let me wrap it.”

He went over to his station and put the needle away. Gray was unraveling the paper from its box when he felt hands around his waist and a chin on his shoulder. 

Gray whipped around. “Get your ass back in the chair!” He exclaimed. He quickly pressed the paper to Flame’s arm before the other boy could do something stupid to smear it. 

Flame grinned. “I’m not going to smear it!” 

“You just might!” Gray retorted as he peeled away the back of the paper. The sticky plastic stayed on the tattoo, and he crumpled up the rest and threw it in the general direction of the nearest trash can. “Come on,” he said, grabbing Flame’s hand and pulling him into the break room in the back of the parlor. 

Tossing his apron onto the floor, Gray turned into Flame’s already open arms. He wrapped his hands around Flame’s neck while Flame set his hands on his waist. Their lips came together and immediately Gray was at ease, here in Flame’s arms. 

They kissed for a long time, only breaking away for breath, until both boys’ lips were swollen and they had touched every inch of exposed skin on the other. 

Flame ran his finger over Gray’s collarbone, over the tattoo of a dove, one on each collarbone. Robyn had done those. She was a part-time apprentice at the parlor, still trying to master her skill. The lines were a bit wobbly and some details out of place, and they were in no way symmetrical, but Gray liked the little touch of personality it gave them. 

“What’s your favorite?” Flame murmured, looking up from the doves to meet Gray’s eyes. Gray smiled a little. 

He lifted his shirt and pointed. On his ribs was a small tattoo — not like the other ones on his body, which were bigger and more noticeable. Small, minimalistic tattoos were Flame’s style. It was a tiny matchbox, open, with a single match aflame. 

Flame smiled. “Ironic,” he mused. “Now we both have each other’s names tattooed.”

Gray snorted and dropped his shirt. “I have another client coming in soon. I have to get my station ready.”

Flame furrowed his brows. “Who is it?”

Gray shrugged, picking up his apron from off the floor. “Just Autumn. Coming in to finish the sleeve I started a while ago.”

“Autumn can wait,” Flame said stubbornly, pulling Gray back in. He ran his hands through Gray’s fluffy red hair, and Gray sighed, but leaned in anyways. Flame moved on to his jawline, and had creeped down onto his neck when the bell at the front of the store jingled, and Gray wrenched himself away from Flame, seizing his apron and throwing it on. He shoved Flame behind him as he rushed out into the parlor. 

Autumn waited by the door, scrolling through her phone. It was her final session for a beautiful sleeve on her left arm — one of Gray’s favorite tattoos he had done. A detailed skeleton covered in flowers. She looked up as he came out, a smirk playing on her lips coated with purple lipstick. 

“And where were you, good sir?” She asked coyly. 

“Doing stuff in the back,” Gray replied, knowing his face was as red as a cherry. 

“I’m stuff!” Flame yelled at the exact wrong moment, grinning his stupid doofus moron grin. Gray groaned and buried his face in his hands. 

Autumn burst out laughing. “You two are icky,” she retorted, shoving Gray’s shoulder lightly. “The last thing I need is to be another third wheel. Hale and Falcon already drive me nuts.”

“What about Berry?” Gray asked, peeking out from behind his hands. “I thought you guys were working it out.”

Autumn shifted, visibly uncomfortable. “Yeah. Well, she said she wanted a break, and I’m letting her have one. She comes back from her family vacation in a few days. We’re going to talk then.”

“Aw, I’m sorry.” Gray awkwardly patted her shoulder. “Well, let’s make sure she had a pretty tattoo to look at once she’s back.”

Gray led her back to the chair and passed Flame on the way. Flame smiled at him. 

“I’ll leave you to get her inked up, ‘kay?” Flame said, pulling Gray in and kissing him. Gray blushed as he pulled away. 

“Okay.” Gray replied. “Don’t do anything stupid to that tattoo. It still has to heal.”

Flame smirked. “I promise. Love you.”

He walked out of the store, the bell jingling as he went. Gray turned back to Autumn, who was watching him with her cheek on her hand. 

“You guys make me sick,” she teased. 


End file.
